His name is Ememesi Ette. Friends call him Mesi. At some point in our friendship, I started calling him my Mesyclopedia. That is because there is almost nothing this guy does not know. He was a veritable well of information during the year I was writing my novel. My go-to guy for any research or clarification I wanted. I had other people whose acknowledgements I shall reel off when my book is done, but Mesi, well, he was a true gem.
And it’s no wonder he’s knowledgeable. By his own admission, he’s a workaholic sort of person. He loves work, and tries to make it enjoyable. But he’s not a bore oo. In fact, he places a huge premium on laughing, and he loves humour. Oh yes, his sense of witticism never EVER fails to get a chuckle or two out of me.
Oh, and if there is any man who proves that the words ‘The way to a man’s heart is through his belly’ are dead-on, it’s this fellow. He doesn’t joke with his food. Or his ice cream. Or his chocolates. I’m counting 1 . . . 2 . . . 3 or more sweet teeth here.